


In the Hay

by Hammocker



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: AO3 1 Million, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:19:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night is too cold for Dandelion, but traveling with your closest friend has its perks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Hay

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, another Witcher fic from me after all this time. And a pretty brief fic too.
> 
> This work can be considered to be pre-Limerence and Reciprocation, but it can also be seen as standalone. Make of it as you will.

“Dandelion.”

The sound of his name being called jerked Dandelion out of his state of half-awake dreaming. 

“Yes, what is it?” he mumbled through chattering teeth.

While he'd known that the north grew cold at night this time of year, sleeping in a barn with only a layer of clothing and a less-than-substantial fur blanket to keep him warm proved difficult. Dandelion had found it near-impossible to believe that the family that owned the nearby farmhouse couldn't be charmed into allowing them to sleep in their home. How someone could see a professional monster hunter and a skilled minstrel being relegated to sleeping on a bed of hay as appropriate was beyond Dandelion. 

“You're fidgeting,” Geralt informed him.

Were Dandelion speaking with anyone else, he might have assumed that it was a rude statement. Geralt, though, happened to be an extraordinary case. As Dandelion had observed, Geralt's flat tone carried into every situation. Only a select few times had he observed the witcher break out of his stoic demeanor to show genuine emotion. Dandelion supposed that that unique outlook was part of what drew him to Geralt. No one he'd ever met thought or acted quite like the White Wolf himself. No one else deserved quite as much to be written of or sung about. Dandelion could accept, and perhaps even start to appreciate, the oddity of him. If only to get close to Geralt of Rivia, of course. 

“So I am” Dandelion said. His eyes fell upon Geralt's bare chest as he wondered how his friend wasn't freezing. “What of it?”

“Stop. It's distracting.”

The request was not new to Dandelion, but in most cases the command was not put forth over shifting about. “I can't just "stop," it's involuntary.”

“That chattering is grating too.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” Dandelion asked, his voice taking on an edge. "Bury myself in hay for warmth?"

No reply came from Geralt for a few moments. Dandelion was about to a let out a huff before finally a sound came from the witcher. “Sleep against me,” he suggested.

“What?” Dandelion had heard Geralt's words, but he had to make sure he had heard correctly. That dry tone may well have been disguising sarcasm. “You- really?”

“Yes, really. I'm warmer than I may seem, in the literal sense. It will help.”

Dandelion hesitated before asking in a slow, careful tone. “You don't think that's at all- odd?”

Geralt tilted his head towards Dandelion. Through the dark, he saw Geralt's eyes glowing long before he could make out his friend's face. Despite seeing the witcher's eyes in the dark multiple times on their travels, the sight still sent a chill through his spine.

“No,” Geralt said, blunt gaze complimenting his firm tone.

“If you say so.”

Dandelion pushed the blanket off of himself, and shuddered as the night air hit his torso. Though he tried to stiffen his jaw, his teeth chattered uncontrollably. Were they not close friends, Dandelion was certain that Geralt would have barked at him to hurry up. Yet the witcher merely laid where he was, watching with a gaze that could have been interest, annoyance, or indifference. All three even.

He slid across the hay over towards Geralt, careful to keep himself at least an inch from touching his friend. Even if Geralt had said that he didn't mind, Dandelion still felt the need to maintain some semblance of respect.

As he laid down, Dandelion realized immediately that Geralt had been modest. He _radiated_ heat. The straw and hay nearest to him had absorbed a substantial amount of the warmth emitted by Geralt. With the air as cold as it was, Dandelion felt as though he was suddenly laying against a recently used stove. He reached over to drag his blanket onto himself, if only to avoid suspicion. He could scarcely keep himself from edging closer to sap more of his companion's heat, but only dared to let his shoulder to brush Geralt's side. No wonder the witcher was so comfortable sleeping shirtless; he produced enough heat for two men. Dandelion had to wonder if all witchers maintained their body temperature so well or if it was a gift of Geralt's alone.

Dandelion inhaled sharply as he felt Geralt's arm shift. He thought for a moment that he'd be pushed away before he felt flesh slipping beneath his neck and across his shoulders. The initial shock had little time to wear off before Geralt pulled him flush against his side. His grip lingered upon Dandelion's shoulder, preventing him from pulling away. No longer was Dandelion shivering with cold, but his breathing had heightened at the uncharacteristically tender gesture. He suspected for a moment that Geralt might be trying to return some favor Dandelion had done for him or perhaps to put Dandelion in his debt. The idea was quickly discarded, however, as Dandelion remembered that Geralt was never above asking for favors, be there a tit for tat incentive or not. Ruling out personal gain a motivation, Dandelion was left with little clue as to what Geralt's motivation could be for getting more close than necessary. He couldn't say he minded, but Geralt had never seemed like the type of person to appreciate being close to anyone as he slept.

Dandelion shifted towards Geralt so that his head rested less awkwardly against his companion's upper arm. Solid as Geralt's muscles were, his bicep made a reasonably comfortable pillow in the right position. Slowly, he felt himself relax against the larger body next to him.

In spite of the unusual sleeping arrangements, Dandelion's eyes slid shut with ease. Before long, he found himself drifting into slumber, warmed by the heat of his closest friend.


End file.
